


One For The Road

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dean Winchester Just Wants To Protect His Family, Drugged Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sam Winchester to the Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:50:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dean just needs to get out of the bunker, and so hits a bar in Lebanon.Sam doesn’t think drinking himself stupid to deal with the problems in the bunker and the world-hating archangel in his head is the best way for Dean to deal with his problems.Just as well he goes to check on Dean, and try to talk him home.





	One For The Road

Sometimes, he just needs to get out of there.

He loves the bunker, but lately it’s been too like a tomb, and that’s as close as he’s letting his mind wander on _that_.

It doesn’t help that half the bunker are shying away from him like he’s got the plague, and the other half are constantly coming to him for this or that.

Somebody actually wanted to know how to use the washer and dryers yesterday. Next thing, he’ll be tying their shoelaces and making them up packed lunches or some such shit.

It’s just…. He can’t find answers for himself right then, and he actually prefers it when they all steer clear.

He is carrying a plague, one that wants to bust out and burn through the world. 

So maybe trying to get drunk in a bar, even one in Lebanon, a stone’s throw from home isn’t that great an idea.

But he needs it. And after the shit he’s been dealing with the past few months, he deserves it.

Smart move or not.

He picks up the whiskey, downs it in one, and orders another.

++

“Maybe,” Mary says, “you should let him have a night to himself.”

Sam loves his mom, he does, but she doesn’t know Dean. She’s been back two years but that doesn’t trump the decades he’s been Dean’s brother, and she’s going to have to accept that, in this, he knows best.

Even if she doesn’t accept it, it doesn’t change things.

“No,” Sam says, pulling on his coat, looking for the keys to Cas’s truck. The angel’s off with Ketch, in his SUV, and he knows Cas won’t mind. “That’s the last thing he needs.”

To be alone, slipping under things when he’s out of both Sam and Cas’s sight. Cas only went with Ketch because he knew Sam would be close by Dean, and because Ketch had a sure fire lead in to a way to contain Michael somewhere outside of Dean’s head.

Sam just wasn’t counting on Dean leaving the minute his back was turned.

Mary keeps at him, urging him to just let it be, and that’s his mom, so Sam doesn’t want to be rude, or get mad, but he eventually stops responding because only one thing matters, now.

Getting to his brother.

++

Dean doesn’t remember being this much of a lightweight, but there it is; he’s sure two whiskeys and a beer shouldn’t be making him feel like he’s floating a couple of feet above the ground, shouldn’t be making everything and everyone else around him look out of perspective.

But maybe he’s so tired that the drink hit him harder than expected, in which case yes, that was a dumb move.

Coming out here. Coming out here alone.

He steps outside, hoping the air will clear his head, but it doesn’t help. He shivers, and looks across the street to where the Impala is parked up, and curses himself.

He’d intended to be enough under the limit to drive home, but that’s not happening now, is it?

So he’ll call Sam, admit to being a dumbass and get his little bro to come and pick him up. Cas would be better. Cas wouldn’t lecture him like he’s sure Sam will, and Cas could wipe out his inebriation with a touch to the forehead.

But Cas is with Ketch, and if that British son of a bitch doesn’t bring him back in the same condition as when he left…

Dean tugs out his phone. Cas can take care of himself, but all the same that’s Dean’s job. Taking care of Cas. Taking care of Sam. Taking care of his family.

He’s just never been that good at it, clearly.

Maybe he hasn’t had _enough_ to drink.

Or maybe…. His phone tumbles out of clumsy fingers, the face cracking when it hides the sidewalk.

Fuck.

He bends clumsily to try and pick it up, and that’s when someone grabs him and tugs him around and gives him a push that sends him stumbling back into the alley beside the bar.

He’s slammed against the wall before he can get his head together; everything’s swimming around him, like the world’s underwater…

...no…

And a hand covers his mouth, a face comes blurrily into view, and he feels something touching him where nobody has any business doing so.

“Don’t you make a fucking sound, bitch,” a voice says, and then the touching starts to hurt.

++

Sam pulls up behind the Impala, glad at least that Dean chose the closest bar to the bunker to get drunk in.

And he knows that’s Dean’s intent. Even as he marvels at just how stupid an idea...Dean has an archangel in there just looking for him to let his guard down…. He can’t bring himself to judge too harshly.

The pressure Dean’s under, from within and without, he has to find some way of bleeding it off.

Somehow.

Just…. Sam wishes it was when he was safe at home, with him and Cas there to watch out for him.

But maybe he can coax Dean out of this bar and into the Impala, and get him home.

He nudges something with his foot then, and looks down to see a phone smashed on the sidewalk.

It’s Dean’s phone he’s sure. But the car is still here, and he doubts Dean would try to walk back if he was pissed, but he’s not been gone long enough for that, surely.

That’s when Sam hears a grunt of pain from the alley, and something tells him he’d better run.

++

It’s hard to think clearly, but Dean realises he isn’t drunk. He’s drugged.

This fucker, this fucker trying to …. to _rape_ him must have spiked his drink.

Dean doesn’t know how, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that his body isn’t doing what he needs, and he can’t push the guy off, can’t do a damn think when he starts kissing his way up his neck, licking and biting, and then…

Then he’s ripped away, something big and strong slamming him down to the ground, kicking him hard enough in the ribs to cave them in.

He slumps down, watching the bastard take what’s probably the kicking of his life, and then he recognises the person doing the kicking.

“Sam.” His voice sounds slurred even to him, but he needs to get Sam to stop. “Sam!”

Sam lurches back, breathing hard, and then he’s pushing Dean upright, grabbing hold of his shirt to keep him that way.

He’s looking Dean over, reassuring himself that Dean’s okay.

“You...shit, did he….”

But the answers are all on view; Dean’s still dressed, a little roughed up, so Sam got there on time.

Dean slumps against his little brother. “Just….home.”

++

Mary’s sitting up when they return, but to her Dean just looks drunk, and they leave her thinking that. 

She tells him to drink some water before he goes to bed and then leaves him to Sam.

Which is ok. Because Sam’s been here before with Dean, but it’s always been when Dean’s gotten drunk. That hasn’t happened in a while, and Sam wishes it had happened tonight instead of what actually did.

But he gets Dean to his room, helps him change, and encourages him to at least drink some water.

“I’m calling Cas,” he says.

Dean’s a little more present, and he shakes his head. “Nah. I’m good. I’ll have slept it off by the time he’s back, even if he turns around now.”

Sam studies him. He figures Dean knows himself best, but Sam would surely feel better with Cas home just in case.

But that means going behind Dean’s back, and that’s not something he’s going to do.

He pulls up a chair, gets comfy next to the bed.

Dean stares at him.

“What?”

“You trying to make me feel like Cas _is_ here?”

Sam fixes his brother with a glare. “If you think for one second I am leaving you alone tonight after what happened…”

Dean grins but Sam sees through it. Reads that Dean will rest easier with somebody there to watch over him while he does.

And Sam will have the reassurance that Dean won’t suffer some crazy reaction during the night to whatever that guy doped him with.

Win-win, and those are the kind of resolutions Sam likes, that they don’t seem to have enough of.

Dean throws a pillow at him, catching him square in the face, and follows up with the top blanket.

“Night, Sammy.”

Sam gets up long enough to turn out the light before getting comfy in the chair.

“Night, Dean.”.


End file.
